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The Cresset, a journal of commentary on literature, the arts, and public affairs, explores ideas and trends in contemporary culture from a perspective grounded in the Lutheran tradition of scholarship, freedom, and faith while informed by the wisdom of the broader Christian community.

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In an era of
scholarly (over) ­specialization, there exists a tendency to dissect the
thinking of a particular figure of historical note into discreet parts
according to our modern disciplinary typology. This tendency sets the framework
for our study of the “great books” and writers in the scholarly canon. We allow
our disciplines to impose questions on texts that they were not designed to
answer. We “extract” theories from a larger theoretical corpus to use for our
own purposes, unwittingly damaging those theories in the process of
“extraction” from the supporting context. The historiography of Martin Luther’s
writings serves as a case in point. Living in one of the most remarkable times
in human history, Martin Luther wrote in the context of decisive political,
scientific, artistic, cultural, and, of course, theological/ecclesiological
change. Our modern scholarly tendencies prompt us to ask, “Is Luther a
liberal?” or “What is Luther’s political theory?” and the process of
“extraction” begins. As we carve out a “political thought” from Luther’s
writings, we may cut off the rich theological framework that is essential to
his political conclusions.

On
this note, Jarrett Carty, Assistant Professor in the Liberal Arts College of
Concordia University, Montreal, nudges those who read and study Luther to let
his texts comprise the starting point for theoretical development and scholarly
inquiry. Luther is not a modern political thinker, envisioning a state
“separated” from the tumults of the church. Luther does not discuss the nature
of politics or government abstracted from humanity’s relationship with God.
Carty’s Divine Kingdom, Holy Order: The Political Writings of Martin Luther
provides a rich collection of Luther’s writings that engage politics from
within Luther’s profoundly complex theological corpus. The conclusion for
Carty: “[Luther’s] theological ideas were intimately connected to his politics
and he saw them to have profound political implications” (4). Endeavors that seek
to understand Luther’s political views without a theology, or that fail to
conceive of the political ramifications of Luther’s theology, risk being both
incomplete and misleading. To help us avoid this waywardness, Carty includes
writings that one would not normally associate with political fare, including
Luther’s commentaries on various passages of Scripture.

In
this collection of primary sources, the writings of Luther are divided into
three sections: “The Reformation of Temporal Government,” “The Political
Teachings of Scripture,” and “Luther’s Applied Political Thought.” Each of the
writings has an introduction, offering background and interpretive guidance for
the reader. Carty’s mastery of the historical context helps the reader discern
the immediate objectives of Luther’s writing, as we weave each piece into a
larger political vision. The standard Luther essays on politics are included,
such as “Christian Liberty” and “Temporal Authority: To What Extent It Should
Be Obeyed,” as well as some writings that are not usually associated with the
“political writings”: “Commentary on Psalm 101,” “Commentary on Psalm 2,” and
“Lectures on Zechariah.” This is an indispensable collection of Luther’s essays
not only for those most concerned with political theory, but for those who take
seriously the moral and social implications of theology. Luther’s position in
the history of the Christian church and Western civilization generally demands
that we read him correctly, and we can only do so if we have access to the
relevant writings. Carty’s excellent and detailed collection expands our
knowledge of Luther’s political thought beyond those narrow passages that
mention politics and government specifically and should be imitated by those
seeking to do the same for other Christian authors. Politics and theology
cannot be artificially separated for these thinkers.

Carty
does his own interpretive heavy lifting with the inclusion of an “Introductory
Essay.” As opposed to being distracted by the modern political questions often
imposed on Luther’s writings, Carty keeps Luther’s political thought in its
theological context. The main thesis of the essay bears this out: “Luther
always emphatically praised secular government for its divinely ordained
purpose to bring order to the temporal world” (9). Yes, it is possible to
contend that Luther’s “political theory” is that government should provide
order, perhaps even expand that into a theory of limited government akin to
classical liberalism, and leave it at that. But this misses Luther’s larger
point: government’s purpose exists within a much larger structure created by
God. Government should seek its purpose, i.e. order, but should not pursue a
purpose beyond that assigned to it in God’s design. Government has limited
capabilities, rendering it ill-equipped to achieve spiritual ends. Carty
explains the oft-misunderstood Lutheran typology of the two kingdoms: “The two
governments were the manifestation of two divine gifts, though seemingly
contradicting one another, but in fact complementing each other as two distinct
ways in which God directed human beings on earth” (12). Luther’s two-kingdoms
theory refers not to distinct physical realms with different governments, but
rather to two different modes of moral thinking. In the Kingdom of God, the law
of the Gospel is authoritative. In the Kingdom of the World, civil law and
worldly rulers govern, though as instruments of God. Because both kingdoms are
ultimately rooted in the authority of God, they cannot be fundamentally opposed
to one another. God hands down the law of the Gospel through Christ, and orders
temporal governments to maintain the larger human society.

The
obvious question is how does one know whether one is in the Godly or Worldly
kingdom? When does the moral authority of the Gospel take precedence, and when
does the rule of temporal authorities reign? Carty draws upon Luther’s
distinction between the “inner” and “outer” natures of the human being to
assist in answering this question: “No person was wholly Christian or righteous,
and thus throughout life on earth, even life in faith, each person remained a
sinful creature that must necessarily be restrained, controlled and brought to
order through temporal government” (13). We see echoes of this all over
Luther’s ­writings. In Christian Liberty, Luther actually takes the
argument a step further and contends that good works, compelled by the laws of
the Kingdom of the World, “reduce the body to subjection and purify it of its
evil lusts, and our whole purpose is to be directed only toward the driving out
of lusts” (81). The temporal realm assists in the purgation of evil from
fleshly existence, “to make some progress in that which shall be perfected in
the future life” (80).

The
two kingdoms track a different distinction, even more interesting for
understanding the way in which the Christian is to behave in larger society, in
Luther’s Temporal Authority: The Extent to Which It Should Be Obeyed. As
opposed to distinguishing between two natures in one person, Luther argues that
the two kingdoms reference two different types of people: the (“real”/“true”)
Christian that does more than the law commands and the
unrighteous/not-Christian that needs the law to constrain behavior. An
interesting set of questions arises for Luther: can the use of the sword cohere
with Jesus’ command to “turn the other cheek” and to “love your enemy”? Can a
Christian follow the dictates of Christ and support or even participate in the
violent activities of the government? Carty suggests in his introduction to Temporal
Authority that these questions are best addressed within the framework of
the “inner” and “outer” natures of the person: “The troubled conscience of the
Christian prince could be put at ease: insofar as his use of force was for the
public good of order and the just punishment of sin; like the hangman, he was
doing his divinely ordained duty to curb sin, violence, and transgressions and
therefore love his neighbor” (104). Carty’s “Introductory Essay,” unfortunately
does not emphasize this crucial point, leaving it to be discussed in the
introduction to Temporal Authority. Luther walks right up to the line of
pacifism (understood as non-violently dealing with conflict), essentially
admitting that Jesus teaches pacifism for believers, and then he bridges the
gap between pacifism and the use of sword by arguing that many of the
Christians’ neighbors “have not attained to such heights” (116) and the
Christian has the responsibility to love one’s neighbor. So, there are two
different modes of moral thinking, each of which applies to the Christian at
different times, in different circumstances. Luther writes, “In what concerns
you and yours, you govern yourself by the Gospel and suffer injustice toward
yourself as a true Christian; in what concerns the person or property of
others, you govern yourself according to love and tolerate no injustice toward
your neighbor” (117). The command to “love your neighbor” shifts the moral
focus away from the self toward others, and hence confers a different set of moral
options (and even responsibilities) on the Christian. When dealing with
yourself and your property, the Christian must be pacifist. When dealing with
others and their property, the Christian can (and sometimes must) wield the
sword.

I
believe Luther gets this wrong, but that is another essay. At least one thing
is clear, however. Carty’s book, in both its excellent compilation of primary
sources and his expert commentary, is essential not just for scholars of
politics and/or theology, not just for Lutherans, but for all Christians and
for all people who struggle with the relationship between the Christian faith
and temporal existence. This is a book to have permanently on the shelf.

Geoffrey C. Bowden teaches in the Department of Political Science and Public
Affairs at Savannah State University, with specialties in ethics and politics
and in political theology.